


These Wings Were Made to Fly

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe — Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Getting Together, Honerva and Zarkon are good parents, M/M, Minor Angst, Soulmates AU, but they’re dead, cliché stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: “If you wish to know why,” she starts, brushing his hair back, “it’s because your father and I are soulmates. Everyone has a soulmate.”He had gasped, way back then, and shimmied closer, switching to sitting on his knees with wide eyes. “Even me, mama?”“Yes. Even you, sweetheart.”





	These Wings Were Made to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> explanation of this AU in the end notes!!  
> written for a lotor christmas exchange
> 
> enjoy <3

Lotor’s mother had died.

Her beautiful wings, once a mixture of a gorgeous blue, a shining purple, and streaks of gold, had faded over the years when he was growing, as had his father’s mark. It was a sign that his mother’s lifespan was coming to an end; a dreadful thought for a mere seven year old.

She told him, on her deathbed, that when he would see her again, she wanted to see his soulmate, and her son’s beautiful wings that had yet to grow. She knew, she told him, that he would grow wings, while his other half would be the one to search; Lotor had always been one to stay within his own home, not much of an adventurer.

Now, though, he was. He was adventurous and determined. While he didn’t want to disobey his mother’s dying wish, he didn’t want wings. He wanted his other half to have the wings; that way, when he got his mark at the age of ten, he could look for them, to make all of it easier and to show them to his mother when he saw her again, just like she wanted.

Perhaps, when he met his mother again, he could tape blue, purple and gold wings to his back, to please her.

…—…

“Mama,” he had asked, at the age of five, sitting in her lap. Her dress was bunched up in small, curious hands, and her hair was caught in another with soft fingers. “Why do you have wings but daddy doesn’t?”

His mother had laughed, then, bright and happy, despite the streaks of grey in her feathers and the lines of stress creasing her forehead.

“Because, sweetheart,” she says, brushing his hair back with a soft smile, “I’m better than your father.”

He had giggled and curled closer to his mother under the bright, shining sky, and tried to user her long dress as a blanket. In response, she had held him closer.

“Really, mama,” he had responded, voice dripping with sarcasm, something he had learned the weak before. By the look his mother gives him, he’s not sure if he used it right or not.

“If you wish to know why,” she starts, brushing his hair back. There’s a gleam in her eyes and Lotor looks at her, head cocked with a curious smile on his face. “It’s because your father and I are soulmates. Everyone has a soulmate.”

He had gasped, way back then, and shimmied closer, switching to sitting on his knees with wide eyes. “Even me, mama?”

“Yes. Even you, sweetheart.”

“So…” he had pouted, looking down at the dress squished between tiny fingers. He thought back to when his father had worn t-shirts, which had revealed streaks of blue and purple, mixed with gold, on the skin of his wrist. “You have wings so daddy could find you?”

“You’re such an intelligent little boy,” she says, voice light with a smile.

“When will I get my wings?” he asks, leaning back against her once he’s satisfied. He looks up at the dark, blue sky, wishing he could find his soulmate; his other half, as his father had described it once.

“When you come of age.”

Lotor had smiled back, thinking all of his questions had been answered.

..—..

It was official.

Lotor hated university.

His class was full of absolute pricks who thought they could boss him around simply because they sat closer to the teacher than he was. Really, it was worse than high school.

That was, until he showed up.

A man with jet black hair, cascading down his shoulders and curling near the ends. A man with piercing, violet eyes that were absolutely stunning. A man with a smooth, deep voice that he could listen to for hours on end if he would only talk that much.

A man with horrendous fashion choice.

There were so many things wrong with his outfit, but his endlessly amazing personality made up for it, and he didn’t know that man very well; not yet.

He intended to change that, and he intended to change it today.

With his favourite sweatshirt on— the one for his figure skating team, no doubt— he approached the man once class ended. He had to wait outside, as the teacher wanted to speak to him alone, and didn’t wish for anyone else to hear, and, well, Lotor wasn’t going to listen to a private conversation. That’s absolute nonsense.

His violet wings are squished against the wall, beneath his sweatshirt, and it stings, as it always does, but, today… it feels different. Heavier than usual.

He huffs, dropping his satchel onto the ground. It must be the sweater that’s weighing his wings down and making them feel weird; he had never been very prone to articles of clothing covering his wings before, so he isn’t sure why he tried today, or for the last few weeks, since classes had started.

There’s a slight chill in the air as he manages to take it off fully, but not a bad chill. He’s always enjoyed this kind of weather, and so had his wings.

As he bends over to pick up his discarded satchel, he hears a door slam shut, followed by quick and heavy footsteps, and he looks up—

Only to be hit, full force, by another body.

His wings, luckily, managed to catch them both before they fell, fluttering rapidly to keep them standing. They’re on a slant due to his wings, with his arms around the other man, and their fists caught on his shirt.

“Apologies,” he begins, thankful his wings were strong enough to hold them both and lift them up. “I should have moved out of your way, Mr…”

Jet black hair, violet eyes.

Keith scowls, letting go of his shirt with a disgruntled noise and brushing off his own.

All Lotor can do is blink in shock at him, seeing a thick stripe of purple on the inside of his wrist, the same colour as his wings.

Could it be?

“Keith,” he mutters, voice just as smooth and deep as he remembered. Keith huffs, brushing off his shirt once more— what is he brushing off? Invisible particles? His shirt looks spotless — before looking up.

Lotor suddenly feels self conscious as Keith’s eyes take over him, from head to toe to wings. He feels self conscious as Keith’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush heavily, taking another step back.

He watches Keith’s adam’s apple as he swallows, a swift up and down, accompanied by the blush that spread to his neck.

“Uh.. sorry, I— I was in a rush, and didn’t see you, uh…” He licks his lips; scratches the back of his neck. He looks incredibly awkward and sheepish, and… tiny.

Cute.

“No need to apologize, Keith,” he says, satchel in hand. He is fairly amused by the turn of tables: all this time, he had been working up courage to talk to Keith, and it seems as if he is the same way. Something nags at the corner of his mind, then, and he clears his throat softly before continuing. “I think all would be forgiven if you could show me your wrist, though.”

Lotor sees the confusion accumulate on Keith’s face— eyebrows scrunching up, nose wrinkling, eyes sparkling — and he braces for a no, but, to his surprise, Keith holds out his bare arm, palm up.

He was right.

It’s the exact shade of his wings, the ones that had saved him from falling.  
  
“My, my,” he says, smoothly, a small, teasing smirk on his face. “You had known all this time, yet you didn’t say a word? How preposterous.”

Keith’s eyes fall to the sidewalk, and Lotor lets go of his arm, only to grab his hand. He’s quite cold; most likely due to that he doesn’t have any extra heat from his wings, seeing as he’s the half of their bond with the wings.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbles, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, “I don’t— I didn’t— I didn’t— you…” Keith trails off, most obviously clearing his head. Lotor waits patiently, hand still wrapped around his rather small hand. “I didn’t think— you’d want to be with me.”

“Preposterous,” he repeats, intertwining warm with warm, slimones, “I’ve been watching you since class has started, as psychotic as that sounds. I was just waiting out here, today, to ask you to dinner.”

Keith’s eyes widen in shock.

“So,” he clears his throat, smiling down at him, “Would you like to go to dinner tonight, Keith? It would be on me, and a pleasure.”

“I…” Keith swallows again, fingers tightening around his own for a fraction of a second before loosening again. Once again, Lotor waits patiently, but anxiety courses through his stomach. Perhaps this was a mistake. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Lotor’s smile grows more wide and he bows his head in a nod. “Delightful,” he says, squeezing his hand before letting go.

He reaches into a satchel and pulls out his pen, gesturing for Keith to give him his arm. Keith complies, if reluctant, and holds out his bare arm.

Lotor makes quick work of writing down his phone number, writing Lotor beside it, and caps his pen as he’s done, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “I must be going soon,” he says, pushing his white hair back, “but I’ll hope that you call me with an address, later. How does seven o’clock sound, Keith?”

“It… it sounds good,” he’s looking down at the phone number as he speaks, and if Lotor looks close enough, he can see the hint of a smile forming on his face, “I’ll see you then. My address, uh— it’s 221B, Brooks Apartments.”

Lotor cocks an eyebrow, and amused smile playing at his lips. “I see you’re a fan of Sherlock Holmes.”

A blush, heavier than when he had bumped into him, lights up Keith’s cheeks, and something tells him he will be seeing it again— not that he’s against it. It’s rather adorable.

“Alright, well,” he looks down at his wrist, where his watch rests, making sure he hasn’t missed his bus. He would’ve taken his car, but he had been too lazy to buy gas and he wouldn’t have had enough for a round trip. He will tonight, however, when he goes on his date. “I must be going. You have a safe drive home; the snow is terrible today.”

Keith nods, crossing his arms, and that’s when it hits Lotor; Keith doesn’t have a jacket with him, and it’s below freezing out. Sure, Lotor had taken off his sweater, but he had a thick, long sleeved shirt on underneath and his feathers to keep him warm, but Keith… he has but a thin, black t shirt, that already looks drenched.

“Oh, and,” he grabs the sweatshirt he had previously thrown over his shoulder, holding it out to Keith. Keith looks absolutely shocked, “take this. It is absolutely freezing outside, and you felt rather cold when I touched you.”

Lotor is beginning to consider taking back the offer with an apology when Keith finally reaches out to take it with another harsh flush in his cheeks and a hidden smile he’s failing at hiding.

“Thank you.”

Lotor nods his head politely and smiles back, before turning on his heel. He’s going to miss his bus if he waits any longer. “I’ll see you tonight, Keith.”

As he rounds the corner, he thinks he hears a squeal.

It makes his day, and for the rest of his trip home, his wings are fluttering from the happy and giddy feelings inside of him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> to understand:  
> soulmates are paired oddly. one soulmate will have a thick line of colour on their inner wrist, one that matches their partners wings. every wing is a different colour, and some are different shades or a mix  
> if the colour has faded to gray on the wings or the wrist, your soulmate is either dead, dying, the love has died, or it’s unrequited. if there’s a shade of yellow, it’s platonic soulmates, but they can grow into romantic!  
> (if it’s a 3 person relationship, two of them have wings, while one has two colours)  
> wings are a common thing on earth— half the population does and half doesn’t
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! kudos and comments are appreciated, but not obligated! see u next time <3


End file.
